Hero to Zero
by SpinNPoint
Summary: Sure you ask for rest, but after saving the world, you'd expect some celebration, right? Especially from the ones you considered family? But what if they just make you feel like it was done every other day? Brush it off like a misplaced leaf? It can be kind of disappointing. Ego-busting, even. Rated T just in case...Dark Brotherhood after all. And spoilers, definite spoilers.


**Yep. I play Skyrim. I am awful at coming up with titles. I mean, this was given to me by a friend after rewatching Hercules, but I can't even come up with my own. ; - ;**

**Anyway, I'm trying to work on Trollcops, but I've hit a bump in the road, so I did this instead. It's simply for practice and such...Get my writing abilities whirring again. Summer is such an unproductive season for me. And, um, reason she doesn't have a name? Because, well, I named my character Bertha. I could not take this seriously if I wrote Bertha. So use your imagination!**

**Names? Titles? They're all the same! It's where my imagination ceases to cooperate. I do not own Skyrim or the Elder Scrolls and their characters. Bethesda is much more creative than me (look at those names).**

* * *

Sleep. It was only thing the Dragonborn could ever want as she dragged her tired body into the Dawnstar Sanctuary. She had never believed it possible to be more exhausted than after the downfall of Alduin, until realizing she much preferred it compared to what she felt now.

Then it had been different. Not only had she been bruised and bloody, sword heavy at her side as the World Eater lay motionless before her, but relieved and filled with an emotion that could best be described as pure bliss. She had done it. She, with the help of Sovngarde, the Greybeards and Paarthurnax, the Blades, and so many more, had saved Skyrim and its people from a fate much worse than the war.

Her body was fatigued, yes, but her spirit remained held high, perhaps higher, as the Sovngarde warriors cheered her name before sending her back to the Throat of the World. And though she had definitely gained far more wisdom than she ever expected and _felt_ exceptionally smarter as well, the Dragonborn had stood, a ridiculous and dumbstruck smile plastered on her face as the dragons of Skyrim soared into the air from their perches on the mountain. Paarthurnax had even taken to chuckling deeply at her state as he bid her farewell, expressing his own delight as he circled the skies, great wings stretched wide. She didn't even stop her joy from showing as Ohdaviing landed before her and assured his loyalty. Though he did not laugh, the dragon's tone seemed mildly amused, but if it was at the situation at hand or him contemplating the Elder Dragon's success, one could not know.

And as soon as he had left, the Dragonborn sprinted carelessly down the mountain path and nearly fell into High Hrothgar, only remaining long enough to tell the elderly men what remained of Alduin and for their congratulations. There was no time for any more of their words of wisdom. As far as she was concerned, it was time to celebrate. And celebrate she did, hurrying first to Riften and the Thieves' Guild, more specifically her fellow Nightingales. And if you wish to go further, Brynjolf, whom had run to her first when she came in looking so frantic. Frantically thrilled, mind you.

That night had been the first of celebration. She had dramatically retold the story as they sat in the Ragged Flagon, her eyes alight with excitement as her fellow thieves crowded around to hear. And her nights continued as such. Aside from the ones spent travelling, the rest were relatively the same, from arriving in Whiterun to inform the Jarl to small inns on the side of the road who had heard certain rumours floating around. There hadn't been time to rest then, but now there would be.

After two weeks of the same routine, the Dragonborn needed somewhere quiet, somewhere remote. Somewhere the defeat of Alduin would most definitely not be celebrated with drinking and loud noises and chatter. Somewhere like the home of the Dark Brotherhood. She figured Babette would congratulate her simply and kindly, Nazir was never noisy, and the recruits weren't ones to stand in their Listener's way. Yes, she had thought it to be a marvelous idea.

Until she remembered, standing motionless atop the stone staircase, that they had a very ecstatic, very headache-triggering, _very_ _persistent_ Keeper. Who had the most ear-piercing laughter at the best of times.

"_Oohhh_, the Listener!"

Sometimes she wondered why she had spared the fool. Then she would realize that was an awful thought. But not today.

"The Listener has returned! And after so long, _so long_! She must have been doing something _oh so_ important to leave the sanctuary and Night Mother behind with those of us who cannot listen! Was it, perchance," the jester hopped up the steps, his eager voice bouncing off of the stone walls and straight into her head, "killing?" She did not answer, simply scowled as Cicero clasped his hands together and looked at her expectantly, an insane smile eating his face.

Normally everyone else wouldn't have been so keen on her return, but the Dragonborn was suddenly aware of many eyes on her, including the unnerving gaze of her mad jester. Perhaps she should have told them _when_ she planned to fulfill her destiny.

"Please, Cicero," she sighed after a moment, brushing past him. "I'm tired."

"Oh, of course, Cicero understands. Listener is tired from her travels and needs her rest! How foolish of Cicero to assume the Listener would care to retell her tales of sneaking and stabbing instead of gathering energy to fulfill the plentiful wishes of our Mother!"

Aside from the eccentric assassin's apologies and nattering, the room remained quiet as the Dragonborn stopped abruptly in the middle of the room (Cicero nearly bumping into her). She took a step forward (if there was one thing the jester hadn't learned while serving this particular Listener, it was personal space). "Before any of you ask," the exhaustion was plain in her voice, but she held herself high all the same. "Alduin is dead and I am off to rest."

She was met with silence, to her surprise, and perhaps slight disappointment, until Cicero bounded into vision again.

"Oh, what _joyous_ of occasions! Another soul sent to Sithis by our magnificent Listener! What more wondrous ways can we serve our Unholy Matron than this, hmm?" He seemed to be the only excitable person present. As well as the most clueless.

The Dragonborn stared at him incredulously. "The _dragon_, Cicero."

His smile didn't falter, but there was a slight drop to his tone, "Oh. Well, Cicero knew this of course. He may be a fool, but Cicero is no blundering idiot. He was simply hoping…" He gave the smallest chuckle she had ever heard from the clown.

Though that wasn't entirely what she was concerned with at the moment. At least he had reacted. Everyone else was remarkably quiet, though a few of the recruits were mumbling to each other in the background.

"That's great news, Listener," finally Babette spoke up, a thumb in her book as she smiled at her leader.

"At least we know the world isn't going to end now," Nazir added as well, turning back to the food he had been preparing on the table.

The Dragonborn, being, well, the _Dragonborn_, was not only shocked but hurt. "That's it?" She questioned with an almost annoyed tone, all thoughts of resting thrown out the window. Though she had literally got what she had asked for- no celebrating-, she didn't like it. Perhaps it was the lack of attention?

The young vampire, however, seemed to be the only one who understood. "We don't care much for politics. As long as the contracts are fulfilled and the money obtained-"

"Don't forget Mothers pleased and souls devoured!" Cicero piped up with a laugh.

"The Dark Brotherhood remains content," Babette continued, unfazed by the interruption, "and without need to interfere."

She realized she must have looked foolish, but the Dragonborn stood with her mouth agape. "There wouldn't _be_ any contracts if Alduin had survived!" She exclaimed with what may have been a bit of anger. After all, her own _Family_ didn't even revel in her success.

"Well then, do you want a cake?" Nazir asked dryly, only ceasing his preparations for a moment to threaten with a spoon as Cicero swiped a carrot and pranced away nimbly.

He laughed (as he often did) and approached the Dragonborn again. "Oh, Cicero would like cake! That'd be a most suitable reward for such a momentous occasion, don't you think Listener?" He paused. "Cicero would also like to kill someone. But that's really just beside the point."

She could tell he was simply trying to please her (and perhaps convince her). He didn't seem anymore relieved that the World Eater was gone than anyone else in the room. And, realizing this, she glared at him.

"Listener," he shook his head and, once again, laughed. "You're so funny! Wanting celebration yet not wanting celebration? An incredibly foolish impasse, don't you think? Of course, Cicero means no disrespect. He is simply confused. And amused!"

Without a second thought, the Dragonborn spat out, "The Night Mother calls for you, Cicero."

Instantly his eyes lit up, but aside from a small twitch (maybe a start of a dance), the jester did not move, "Well…hmm, is- is Listener quite s-"

"Yes."

"_Oohhh_! The Night Mother calls for her Keeper! She calls specifically for Cicero! This is truly a glorious day!" With that, he, literally, danced up the stairs, humming and laughing and muttering (not so quietly) about hopes that perhaps this was the day she would speak to him.

"Coming Mother!" He sang. "Your humble Cicero lives to serve!"

Of course he was getting his hopes up.

"That was an awful thing to do," Babette, despite her attitude towards the Keeper, had dropped her smile.

"How do you know she didn't call for him?" The Dragonborn huffed in an almost childlike fashion, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. "How does _he_ know she didn't call for him?"

The vampire gave her a disapproving look and shook her head as her leader disregarded it and stalked past. Not even considering what would happen if the Night Mother found what she had done to be disrespectful or that it had generally been abusing her powers, the Dragonborn made her way past the recruits that had crowded in the doorway to the assassins' living quarters. They continued to stare at her, their expressions unreadable as they muttered, "Welcome home Listener," and the like.

"It would have been the same for the war," Babette called out, knowing perfectly well she was being heard. "Empire or Stormcloaks, it doesn't matter. With politics there are distracted guards. With distracted guards there are unprotected and unaware contracts."

She rolled her eyes at the vampire's words, though a part of her knew what she had said to be true. As far as the Dark Brotherhood was concerned, a flustered world meant easier kills. Even ones that could create uproars and have the world in a state of even more panic. Another part of her, however, kept up the reminder that this had been _Alduin_. They should at least be cheering or something.

But even so, there was a nagging feeling of guilt, of being given exactly what she had asked for and becoming _angry_ over that fact. It was hard not to think about it, but she tried.

The Dragonborn shut the door to her room and slipped her armor off, crawling into the warm, inviting bed that was presented so nicely before her. It had not been made when she was last here, and there had been a definite lack of the sweet aroma that currently filled the room as well. The only one she could think to have done such a thing was Cicero.

Another stab of guilt.

Well, she would just have to apologize tomorrow. She rolled over. Or maybe not. He would most definitely be angry, if not exceptionally disappointed, even if he chose not to show it. She would also have to apologize for acting so immaturely to Babette and the others. It had been actually quite embarrassing now that she thought about it, and her cheeks flushed at the not-too-far-off memory. She rubbed them with the blanket almost furiously and forced her eyes shut.

No. Now was not the time to be thinking like this. Now was the time to be upset. She was _allowed_ to be upset. To be upset and just sleep it off.

Perhaps she would just go back to Riften when well rested. It had been loud there earlier. It would most definitely be loud there now. Yes, they would welcome her back with open arms and laughter. And not insane laughter either. The normal kind. Yes, she would have to go back as soon as she could. Perhaps listen to the Night Mother's requests and set off again? It would be even more convenient if the contract happened to be in Riften.

Then she could visit the thieves and Brynjolf and Karliah again. And she would be happy to embrace the only other family she had not made a fool of herself in front of.


End file.
